


Nikola Orsinov dni

by OrangeAxolotl



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Threats of Violence, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeAxolotl/pseuds/OrangeAxolotl
Summary: Dating Martin Blackwood was one of the best feelings in the world. Being able to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him was intoxicating and something Jon could never get enough of.-You ever think about how traumatizing Jon's time with Nikola would have been? Cause I do!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 14
Kudos: 524





	Nikola Orsinov dni

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in a nebulous late-season 3 time but they're already together. Or idk post-canon could also work, this is a choose-your-own-time-period novel.

Dating Martin Blackwood was one of the best feelings in the world. Being able to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him was intoxicating and something Jon could never get enough of. And he took full advantage of this. His legs were currently slung over Martin's lap, and he had his arms wrapped around his middle. His head was nestled right below Martin's chin, and Martin rubbed slow circles on his back as the nature documentary they'd started an hour earlier came to a close.

Jon was content, bordering on happy, which was as good as he could get nowadays. Martin shifted to grab the remote and turn off the tv, causing Jon to make a small noise in protest. Martin just chuckled, his chest vibrating against Jon's cheek pleasurably, and pressed a kiss to the top of Jon's head.

"You're forgiven," Jon muttered sleepily.

"I'm glad," Martin responded, squeezing him a little tighter. They sat there for a while longer, just cuddling and enjoying the contact, before the stiffness in Jon's leg and neck had him reluctantly pushing away from Martin in order to stretch.

"Are you gonna head home?" Martin asked, watching him with sadness tinging his voice.

"Hmm," Jon hummed. "Could I stay?"

"Of course." Martin smiled at him, then stood, groaning as his knees popped. "You can wear some of my pajamas."

"May I use your shower?" 

"Of course. If you want, you can leave the door unlocked and I'll drop the pajamas off after you get in."

"Thank you." Jon leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Martin's mouth, then shuffled towards the bathroom.

He stripped and started the shower, turning the handle hotter and hotter until it was to a temperature of his liking. He got in and could almost feel his skin blistering. Perfect. He'd run cold constantly for months now, and things like hot showers and Martin's body heat let him feel warm. He leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed and let the water beat down.

He barely caught the knock at the door over the sound of the water, but called "come in!"

Jon smiled at the obscured shape of Martin through the curtain as he came in, set the pajamas on the sink, and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

God, he loved him.

Jon hummed tunelessly as he grabbed the shampoo and scrubbed it into his scalp. He let it sit there as he picked up Martin's body wash and squirted some into his hand. He shuddered a bit at the texture, but ignored it and began rubbing it into his shoulders and chest.

And down to his arms and Nikola was there, laughing as she kneaded moisturizer into his pores. Her face always twisted in a cruel, painted smile as she lathered layer after layer of goop onto him. "Archivist!" was always said with such delight, as if stripping him of his name and leaving only that cold impersonal title gave her a special sort of glee. Her cold plastic hands, unnatural and strange, ran up and down his limbs, his torso, around his neck and across his face, leaving him feeling slick and violated. 

And he was on the floor of the shower, gasping for breath as the uncaring water beat down on his back.

"Jon! Jon!" The door rattled roughly as fists slammed against it, and Jon hunched down, clutching at his head and trying to will himself to finally die.

He opened his mouth, whether to cry out for help or to scream at Nikola to leave him alone, he didn't know. But all that came out was a strangled, choking sob.

"I'm coming in!"

Jon sobbed again, screwing his eyes tight and trying to curl up even smaller, protect what he could from her awful probing hands. The curtain was thrown back and the water turned off and when the hand came down on his back he froze, unable to decide between thrashing to get it off or just letting her do her thing and getting it over with as quickly as possible.

"What happened?" Another hand joined the first, grasping him by the shoulders and gently dragging his frozen body into an upright position. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to look at any gleeful, leering not-quite-a-face as they continued preparing him. 

"What happened, Jon?"

The hand came back, cupping his cheek with such tenderness. It was warm, slightly sweaty. He could feel a pulse, strong and rapid, through the thumb that rested on his cheekbone. Jon finally managed to crack his eyes open and stared, uncomprehending for several long seconds, at the face of the man he loved.

Jon breathed out slowly, melting into Martin's touch. He reached up slowly, cupping Martin's hand with one of his own and clutching onto it for dear life. He whimpered quietly, squeezing his eyes shut again. They stayed like that for several moments, then Martin was gently tugging his hand out of Jon's grasp. He made a small noise of loss, but just as quickly he was grasping his elbow, slowly tugging him into a standing position and guiding him out of the shower and setting him down on the toilet.

A towel was wrapped around his shoulders, Martin scrubbing off the still-lingering body wash, then leaving it wrapped around him.

He got another towel, and slowly, gently wiped the shampoo from his hair then pressed it dry.

Martin's bathroom was hazy and unfocused, but it was still his bathroom and not the abandoned wax museum that had been his "home" for the longest month of his life. And Martin himself was there, hovering in front of him.

Jon couldn't make eye contact right now. He couldn't speak. Martin's hand on his shoulder was warm. He brought his hand up and placed it on top of Martin's, staring blankly into space.

"Do you want me to help you get dressed?" Martin picked up the oversized t shirt and pair of boxers from the sink. Jon stared at them, not quite registering.

"I'm going to help you get dressed," Martin decided.

It was slow. When he could move, Jon was stiff and robotic. When he couldn't, he was a ragdoll. But eventually he was dressed, and then Martin was scooping him up bridal style, one hand supporting his shoulders and the other behind his knees. 

The walk to the bedroom was short, and Jon was placed gently in the center of the bed. Martin drew the blankets up around him, tucking him in. He leaned over and pressed a small kiss to his forehead.

As Martin turned to leave, Jon let out an involuntary noise of protest, reaching out at his retreating back.

"Oh..." Martin said. "Do you want me around?" 

Jon made another grunt of affirmation, and Martin was pulling back the covers and climbing in next to Jon, who immediately latched on, burying his face in Martin's side.

Martin's hand ran through his hair gently, and as the dead feeling went away, the tears came back in full force, and Jon sobbed into Martin's shirt until he could not cry any more.

They lay in silence for a long time, and the only way Jon knew Martin had not fallen asleep was his hand, still moving in calming circles through his hair and down his back. Finally, Jon unstuck his face from Martin's side, but only to rest his ear on his chest.

Jon sighed heavily, wondering how exactly to say this.

"Martin. When I-" tears were squeezing into his voice and he cut himself off.

"You don't have to explain anything, Jon," Martin said quietly.

Jon reached over and grabbed Martin's hand in his own. "I-I want to." He lay there silently for a few more minutes, running his thumb over the back of Martin's hand and organizing his thoughts.

"When Nikola....did that." An understatement. "She used a lot of lotion. On me. Preparing to skin me. Your soap. It felt..." 

"Oh," Martin breathed quietly, his hand stilling. "I'm. Sorry."

Jon huffed thickly. Martin had nothing to be sorry about, he knew that.

"I am!" Martin protested. "That isn't something you can control. I should've thought about it and-"

Jon shook his head against Martin's chest, making a disapproving noise.

Martin wisely stopped his self-depreciation. He squeezed Jon's hand tightly. "We can go shopping for new soap," he offered. "We'll find one that doesn't feel like the lotion she used."

Jon smiled against Martin's chest, then leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips. He pulled back, then settled on his side facing Martin. He still held onto his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze in return.

"Yeah," Martin said, "I love you too. Goodnight, Jon."


End file.
